When I thought you were dead
by leaysaye
Summary: Two people changing. Two people figuring things out. Two people learning about each other, and about themselves. My very first Caryl fic. My very first proper het fic in this fandom. This is for my friend Mel.
He startles her, and she flinches back from the table where she'd been sorting baby clothes.

"Sorry…"

His voice is gruff, never very friendly, but he keeps his eyes on her and she thinks he's looking at her with concern. She tries a smile.

"It's ok. You're just too good at this, sneaking up. One of us will have a heart attack soon."

He gives a little snort of a laugh, and as he passes her his hand brushes her shoulder, so lightly she thinks she might've almost imagined it.

Almost, but not quite.

She keeps her head bent over the tiny socks in her hands, turning them over and over without seeing them.

He's trying, she knows.

And so is she.

-.-

"You ok?"

Now it's he who startles, looks up at her from where he's sitting on the edge of the metal table in the common area, biting hard on one nail, taut as a spring. His eyes are full of something she can't fathom, but only for a second. Then it vanishes.

"Sure."

She hands him a steaming mug and he takes it, inhales deeply the scent of strong coffee, and cradles the mug in both hands, savoring the heat.

A couple steps closer and she's right next to him. She doesn't know why she's doing it. She knows he doesn't like it, people invading his space.

Call it an experiment.

And it works. She gets her answer, the one she knew she would, and she doesn't care for it at all.

He stiffens, flinches away. Hides it, or tries to, by practically jumping off the table. Puts his mug down, picks the crossbow up in one fluid motion.

"Gonna check the snares. Tell Rick?"

Half mumbled over his shoulder, and he's gone.

She sighs and rests her hip against the table where he just sat, metal still giving off his body heat.

What are they doing? She sure as hell doesn't know.

-.-

He's pacing, she can see him out of the corner of her eye. Back and forth, and back again. It makes her feel restless, itchy even. Keen to be gone herself.

She never has that urge, to go out there on her own. She knows she could, she's strong enough now, to survive. To make it.

She can fight. She always knew she had it in her, this new, different self. It was just hidden, asleep. Afraid.

Now she's not afraid. But she worries. Has she done this? Has she made him unhappy?

What is it she herself wants, she doesn't even know that. This is her home now, these people are her family.

Judith, she's like a baby daughter. Beth, she's like a daughter, too.

Two girls who are not Sophia, can't, will never, replace her. But they give her something else, something new. What Sophia was, what she could've been.

And what is he, in all of this? Does she want him? Does she need him? And as what?

Could she ever allow another man to rule her life?

Ed's changed her. He killed part of her. She's not the same as she was before him. She's not now the same woman she was with him, either.

But who is she? And what would he make her?

-.-

He hovers for a while, she knows he's there. She continues with her chores, cleans the pots, flips the meat over on the fire, puts the water filter back together after giving it a good scrub. Ordinary tasks, an ordinary day. How quickly routine reestablishes itself, even when the world has been turned so thoroughly upside down.

And it's still her doing the household chores, her and the other women, and the girls. Why that's so she doesn't really know, but she doesn't mind the tasks. They make her feel safe.

But she can already feel that they're no longer enough. She'll need something else from this life, something more. She's already changed, and she's not done yet.

He never asks her to do anything, let alone expects it. He's not used to anyone doing anything nice for him, or making him more comfortable. Wash his clothes, make his food.

Share his bed.

She wonders about it. Not the cleaning, or cooking. But about that last thing. Doesn't he ever miss it? Being with someone, feeling another person he trusts close by, feeling loved, and wanted.

A thought, terrible and sad: He's never had it, so how can he miss it?

Does she want to be the one who gives all of this to him? He'd never be like Ed, he'd be nice, and gentle. She knows he would. But even so, he's still a man. And who knows, he might not be done changing either.

She doesn't want to be a wife again.

Over all her musing she's forgotten he was hovering. When she remembers he's gone.

-.-

"Quiet out?"

She looks round, gives him a quick nod. Puts the rifle down by her side. The hand on the stock suddenly feels sweaty.

"Yeah… you come to take over watch?"

He looks past her, all the way to the tree line. She knows his eyes are perfect. He could shoot a walker through the eye 50 yards away. Easy.

She's not that good yet, but she's catching up fast.

He's come for a reason, she knows. And it's not to relieve her from her post. She thinks he wants to talk, but doesn't know how.

It dawns on her he's never done this before. Told anyone, ever, what he's about to tell her.

And she can't make it easier for him, cos that'd never work. It's his to do. To get out, go through.

"When I thought you were dead…"

He lowers his head, shakes it a few times no, looks annoyed with himself.

Tries again.

"When I brought you the rose… I knew what it meant. I'm still… The feelings… they're strong…"

She holds very still, already knows what this is not. But she waits.

"'ve never wanted to… do that. With anyone. Dunno why. Cos of him, maybe… he never… I mean… he hit me plenty… but he never…"

He looks fleetingly from behind those strands of hair that are getting ridiculous now.

"Suppose, not liking it… 'm just made that way… Don't like touching… 've tried, 's no good, 's always the same…"

She dearly wishes to end this, tell him it's ok, she understands. But she doesn't.

"I wanted to. Cos it's you, and… well… That first night in here. You wanted it then, me…"

Now she wants to tell him she knows that was silly. Apologize. She still cringes at the memory. How tense he got, how trapped he looked. She's never tried anything like it again. She hates even thinking about it.

But she stays quiet.

"Sometimes it happens, in m'sleep. I see it, feel… you. Or… I… Merle, he thought I was… y'know. Maybe I am… Dunno, cos I like it no better. Tried it, 's not for me, no matter who with…"

He looks at her again, holds her gaze a bit longer this time.

"'m real glad I got y'all. Really, I'm happy, bein' with the group. First time I don' mind bein' round people..."

"But that's enough. Having a family."

He looks relieved that she's found the words for him.

"Yeah… Carol, you're real important. Don't wanna be without you, but, I jus'…" He takes a deep breath. "Don't, y'know… wait for me? 's not gonna change, this. Me…"

She smiles at him, tries to go for reassuring, he looks so miserable now. And there's no need. Her feeling of relief is genuine.

"I love you, and yeah, maybe I wanted to be in love with you, back then. But now I know, I don't have to be. I can just be me, and you… you can be you. No need to bend out of shape for anyone."

He relaxes, she can see it. And he doesn't look away.

"We're family, Daryl."

"Yeah," he says, like he's finally ready to let himself believe it. "Family."


End file.
